We were trapped between them.

Rain pounded on the roof like gravel.

Mara veered off the paved road onto a gravel turn-off beside a chain-link fence.

The tires kicked up rocks that rattled against the undercarriage.

She brought the car to a sudden, violent stop behind a row of rusted shipping containers.

“Get out,” she said, reaching into her jacket for her service weapon.

“We run together,” I said.

“No,” Mara said, turning to look at me. “They want the monitor, and they want you. I’m the distraction.”

“Mara, no.”

“Natalie, listen to me,” she said, her grip tight on my arm. “If they get both of us, nobody finds out what your father did.”

The headlights of the first SUV swept across the shipping containers, illuminating the rain-streaked metal.

Doors slammed in the distance.

Heavy boots splashed through the puddles.

“Go,” Mara whispered. “Into the brush behind the fence. There’s a gap.”

I hesitated, my hand on the door handle.

“Now!” she ordered.

I slipped out of the passenger side, keeping low.

The air tasted of salt, diesel fuel, and wet dirt.